


Let Us Set The Seas on Fire

by Fyifae



Category: One Piece, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-08-29 07:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyifae/pseuds/Fyifae
Summary: Shouto gets an international internship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic I ever posted anywhere, if not counting those days writing bullshit in obscure Twilight forums. I’m pretty rusty from not writing in a while, but here goes.

Shouto chews his cold soba silently, avoiding his father’s stare over the table. Enji has been increasingly present for breakfast and dinner—especially dinner, and it’s still weird, although it’s getting better. Rei sits by his side, also eating silently, looking at peace. Sometimes Enji would pile food onto her plate (“You have to eat more, to regain your strength,” he’d fuss, and she’d smile at him. A year ago, this would be _unfathomable_ —it kind of still is). The therapist Enji goes to must be a miracle worker, because he hasn’t snapped at his family in _months_.

 

The Todoroki family has been eating dinner together for almost two months now. Shouto doesn’t want to be the cause of their relapse. Well, technically, it would be Enji’s fault if he gets angry that Shouto ranked third on this year’s Sports Festival.

 

“Shouto.”

 

 _Ah, here we go,_ Shouto braces for impact, looking up slowly from his bowl. Heterochromatic eyes meets burning blues. The rest of the table stops eating. His sister is especially tense.

 

His father sets down his chopsticks. “I saw your performance in the Sports Festival,” he says, “It’s-“ He pauses. He opens his mouth to say something but vaguely shrugs it off. “Good job.”

 

A string of soba slides off Shouto’s slack grip.

 

His father isn’t finished. “You handle ice better than most pros. But your left side needs a lot of work.”

 

“I know,” Shouto quickly says, figuring the point of the conversation, “I’ll just intern with you again.”

 

Unexpectedly, Endeavor shakes his head. “No.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve talked to your teacher. The maritime division of the International Hero Association owes me a couple of favors. I’m calling in one,” he says while picking up his food again, like Shouto getting sent to work overseas isn’t a big deal. Shouto waits out the chews and swallow. “You’ll work under The Earthshaking Hero: Whitebeard. We just talked and he suggested one of his top men to supervise you.”

 

“So you’re just sending him away?” Natsuo snaps, breaking the quiet stalemate between him and Enji he has kept up for months.

 

“The Flame Hero: Firefist is a young, up and coming pro two years fresh out of school, yet his control over fire rivals mine. You can learn a thing or two from him.”

 

“But you can’t just- Mom!”

 

Rei looks thoughtful. “Whitebeard is a good man. It’ll be great experience for Shouto.”

 

Natsuo gapes, speechless. Shouto would mirror him, if his mind isn’t running, zooming a hundred miles every millisecond.

 

No pyrokinesis training with his father. A month of freedom, away from him but also from school, the rest of his family and his friends. Meeting international heroes, a completely different level than their local force, evident by Endeavor’s admittance of a rookie having a similar level of control to their _number one hero._ A different terrain, with different people, different food and—oh god, perhaps different language too?

 

Shouto takes a few deep breaths. “I’m grateful,” he finally says.

 

Enji nods, pleased. “Good. Pack your bags, you’ll be on your way next Monday.”

  


 

———

  


 

“Todoroki-kun!” greets bright freckled cheeks with wild green hair as soon as Shouto steps inside the classroom, which isn’t in anyway a surprise, but still not something that happens every day.

 

“Midoriya.” Shouto sits on his chair anyway.

 

All Might’s apprentice hijacks the seat in front of him and starts talking wildly. “I saw Endeavor in the International Hero Conference yesterday!”

 

Shouto blinks. So there was a conference.

 

“All Might came too, not as an official hero of course since he’s retired and all, but to see an old friend, and he brought me along! There’s so many heroes, more than I knew about, with so many amazing quirks!” He gestures with his hands, the cumulation of over a year being best friends with Iida. “All Might talked to Garp The Fist! He’s not really a hero but he’s a big shot US Marine and is called a hero anyway. His quirk is some kind of super strength, I think, since he mentioned chucking cannonballs with his bare hands! The strength that’s needed to do that-“

 

“Midoriya.”

 

“Ah! He’s a vice admiral but he’s mainly training new recruits now. All Might introduced me to him. He said I reminded him of someone and said I could use some shaping up. Then All Might brought up the Sports Festival and our internship and,” he finally takes a breath, laughing lightly. “I guess I’m interning at the US Marine Headquarters this year.”

 

“So you’re going overseas too,” says Shouto, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah! I can’t wait- Wait.” His big eyes squint and focus on Shouto, then yells, “Todoroki-kun, you got an international internship too?!”

 

That gets the whole class’ attention, every head turning to Shouto’s table in the corner of the room, like predators spotting their prey. One predator is particularly vicious, eyes screaming bloody murder though he just stepped into the classroom.

 

“WHA? What do you mean about you and Half-and-Half, Deku?!”

 

Compared to their first year, Bakugou has mellowed out—if only slightly. He works better with others and is now adept at rescues, but still stomps everywhere he goes and seems perpetually angry. Shouto should really ask his father to refer Bakugou his therapist.

 

“We’ll discuss that in homeroom today, actually,” drawls Aizawa, as always zipping down his cocoon out of nowhere. Class A’s vigilance is nothing to the stealth of a pro underground hero. “Get back to your seats. We’re going to talk about your internships.”

 

Bakugou heads to his chair with a “tch”, while Midoriya apologizes profusely to Hagakure who has been standing next to her seat all this time. Shouto looks past her invisible head to Aizawa, a stack of papers in his hand.

 

“Here’s the list of agencies who requested you. Pass it on.” He hands over half to Shinsou, who always sits in front ready and eager to learn ever since he transferred into their hero class, and half to Kirishima, who has been banned from sitting in the back due to deplorable grades. Excitement bubbles up throughout the class eagerly reading their prospects, except for Shouto, who received nothing.

 

“Please think about where you want to intern in carefully before submitting your form at the end of this week. Except for Midoriya and Todoroki”—a quick glance to the right tells Shouto that Midoriya didn’t get his list either—“whose paperwork has been taken care of.”

 

“Sensei!” Bakugou wastes no time in raising his hand and yells away, “How come Deku and Icyhot got special privileges?”

 

Their teacher sighs. “Yesterday evening, All Might informed me that his friend from the US is interested in taking Midoriya under his wing. All Might also said that Endeavor has secured Todoroki an internship with Firefist,” Aizawa says. He fixes both students a red eyed glare. “I wasn’t happy with it, I’m still not. Even though we did in a good chunk of the League of Villains at the end of last year, we’re still big targets and are under constant threat. I don’t want you where I couldn’t reach you.”

 

A warm feeling sweeps through the whole class. _Eraserhead cares so much for them!_ Shouto hears Hagakure trying and failing to hide her sniffles.

 

Aizawa closes his eyes for a few moments before continuing. “But that’s irrational. By going overseas, you’ll not only be beyond my reach, but also the the League of Villains’. What’s most rational, as a student, is to search for as much knowledge as possible, and there’s much to learn in a foreign land. So I let All Might submit your paperworks.”

 

Bakugou raises his hand again, but this time, Yaoyorozu does it too and their teacher nods at her to talk before he could shout out his protests.

 

Yaoyorozu straightens, hands folded on her desk with poise. “Sensei, is there any way we, the other students, can also acquire international internships?”

 

“Yeah, Sensei!” Mina chimes in.

 

“Man, it’s really not fair if only Midoriya and Todoroki gets to do it,” Kaminari says.

 

A slew of agreements ripples through the class. Their blond hothead is especially eager. Shouto is half interested and half just wants homeroom to be over.

 

When the class settles down, Aizawa opens his mouth. “You’ll have to take it up with another teacher. I don’t work much with international heroes, so I can’t refer you. But if you can find yourselves one before the end of the week, you can submit your form as normal.”

 

Shouto’s classmates’ faces brighten up with excited non-whispers. Aizawa gives up in retaining any sense of order and goes back into his cocoon. Many of the class crowd around Midoriya, who happily answers every curiosity they have that he can answer.

 

“Hey Todoroki, how did you get your internship?” Jirou, who sits on his right, asks.

 

Shouto stares at her blankly. “My father.”

 

“Oh. Nevermind.” She turns around, conversation over. No one else bothers him after.

 

Shouto smiles, can’t help but feeling slightly amused. He drowns out the noise and takes out his notebook instead. There’s a lot of things he should plan for, since it’s a one month long internship. He scribbles checklists from his hero suit to his trusty toothbrush. He hopes his one suitcase would suffice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The internship starts...kind of.

In the end, his sister has packed his bags before Shouto could even begin gathering his sweatshirts.

“Fuyumi-nee.” Shouto stares pointedly at his one suitcase then back at her.

His sister looks up from pouring pancake batter, face only slightly guilty. “I’m just so excited for you!”

Shouto sighs, but he isn’t unhappy. Her sister meddles, but it’s not like he has any particular things he wants to bring anyway. So he smiles. “Thanks.”

She opens her arms, face still bright. “C’mere, Shouto.”

Shouto is confused, but walks into the hug anyway. His sister’s arms wraps tightly. She buries her face in his uniform lapels. Shouto can feel wetness seeping into the fabric.

“Ah, I’m just going to miss you.” She sniffles. She wipes her tears when she straightens up, her smile still wide on her face. “Go do your best out there.”

“I’ll go beyond,” Shouto promises, “Plus Ultra.”

“Good.” She pats his arms twice before releasing him. “Make sure to say goodbye to Mom, Natsuo,” she bites her lips, “and also Dad, alright?”

Shouto waves her off. “Yeah, yeah.” He turns around, picking up his suitcase and a rice ball his mother made earlier that morning. He has already said goodbye to her. Despite having an ice quirk, her hug is also very warm.

“Don’t freeze the stove if it catches on fire!” he shouts before he’s out the door. Last time, the clean up hadn’t been pretty.

Shouto hears his sister fumbles inside, puts on his shoes and starts walking resolutely to the train station.

It is the day.

Since the day he reveals his internship supervisor, Midoriya has been spamming him, unprompted, with his research of Firefist, so much that Shouto doesn’t have to lift a finger looking up anything on his own. Firefist’s is Brazillian, but his father his half Japanese, which gives Shouto some hope that they would have a common tongue. By some twist of fate, Midoriya’s supervisor, Garp The Fist turns out to be Firefist’s grandfather. It’s said that Garp trained him in his childhood, before he enrolled into Brazil’s biggest hero academy. He graduated top of his year, then freelanced for a while (which, Midoriya explained to him, is a totally more common thing for fresh graduates to do in some foreign countries). He made quite a name for himself, hailed as “young, handsome, kind and powerful” according to the online articles Midoriya found, becoming a local sensation. Then, after “one hundred days of recruitment”, as quoted from Whitebeard’s annual press conference two years ago, Firefist joined the ranks of the gargantuan but tight-knit Whitebeard International Hero Agency manages. A year later, he was named Second Division Commander. He has hundreds of men working under him, commanding his own ship and heads an office in Baterilla. Even comparing to Shouto’s father’s partner Hawks, Firefist’s career track is _unheard of._ Still not as awesome as All Might’s single awe-inspiring campaign—Shouto agrees with Midoriya on this—but very very impressive nonetheless.

Shouto finishes off his rice ball as he nears the station. It’s still a couple ways left, but he has plenty of time. The train would take take him to the bay area, unlike Midoriya’s crack-of-dawn bus to the airport. Kirishima and Uraraka had set out even earlier. Shouto was a bit surprised that out of everyone else in their class, these two were the ones who managed to get themselves internships overseas. Forget pulling strings, the week-short deadline wasn’t nearly enough for most to even contact their connections. Kirishima and Uraraka took the search into their own hands, surfing the web and coincidentally applying for the same hero agency, based in London. A riot almost broke out in class when their acceptance email arrived the morning of the day their forms needed to be submitted.

Bakugou wasn’t happy, but he surprisingly got over it quickly. Though Shouto has a weird feeling Bakugou’s Plan B choice would actually suit him perfectly, the half-cold half-hot boy doesn’t actually know what to think of it. Two unstoppable forces meeting each other—it’s frightening to imagine how _well_ it would go. Never in Shouto’s wildest dreams would he consider Bakugou interning at Endeavor Hero Agency, of all places. Alas, reality is often stranger than fiction.

Shouto sleeps on the train. The first-class seat his father booked for him is comfortable, so he might as well put it to good use.

He is woken by the train stopping. Shouto gathers his things and follows the other passengers out. Immediately, he is greeted by the fishy smell of the fisher’s port. Shouto stares out in wonder. He has been to the beach plenty of times before, but never has he been to a harbor, where there’s only ships and then water as far as the eye could see.

There’s a slight skip in his steps as he walks to the meeting spot. He feels the salt in every breeze.

“Kuri, Kuri,” he murmurs, passing by establishment after establishment. His father told him he would find his contact in a small tavern. He stops in front of a hole-in-the-wall bar, so slight that he almost walked straight past it. A rusty sign rests on top of the door. Shouto pushes it inside.

“Welcome to Kuri!” greets a little girl with purple hair and a beaming smile. She wears a green kimono that’s intricately patterned, but has seen better days.

Shouto raises one hand awkwardly. “Uh, hello.”

The girl keeps smiling expectantly. Shouto looks at his feet.

A man laughs from the stools. When he speaks, there’s a slight accent. “You must be Shouto Todoroki! I’d know that two-toned hair anywhere!”

Shouto reaches up to grasp his hair self-consciously. “Ah yes, that’s me.”

The man grins widely. He wears a mask and has eye-catching blue hair. He offers Shouto a gloved hand. “I’m Masked Deuce, Firefist’s second-in-command. The young lady here is Tama. Would you like anything to eat or drink?” His other hand gestures to an empty plate and glass on the bar counter.

Shouto shakes both his head and Deuce’s hand. “I’ve eaten on the way.”

The man nods and gets up, dusting stray crumbs from his dark pants and heavy-looking long coat. “Then we’ll be off.” He strides to Tama and crouches to her eye level. “Thanks for the food. You’ll be good and stay out of trouble, okay? Hitetsu always worries about you.”

“When will Ace-nii visit me?” She doesn’t answer, instead demands with fists clenched.

Deuce pats her head. “If something hadn’t come up, he would’ve been here. I told you, he’s been wanting to see you all year.”

“When.” She stands firm, her lips in a stubborn line.

“He’ll be there for your birthday,” Deuce promises. “We’ll all bring you presents.”

Tama huffs. “You better.”

Deuce laughs and straightens up. He waves at Tama as he exits, Shouto following behind like a lost puppy. They walk to the docks, Deuce whistling all the way, Shouto too awkward and too busy taking in the sights to say anything. There’s sailors old and young, loading and unloading cargo, some using their quirks but mostly don’t, muscles bulging from the strain. Shouto glances down at his own, though muscular, still gangly arms. Deuce’s looks almost twice as big under all that thick fabric. This internship might just add to him a few extra pounds of muscle mass.

“Here we are.” Deuce stops in front of one of the ships, a rather traditional wooden behemoth that towers over them. It appears aged but well-maintained. The man on watch stands up on deck and gestures them to get on. Shouto picks up his suitcase and trailed over dumbly.

The crew that has been waiting for them springs to life, moving to lift the anchor and unwrap the sails. Deuce walks over to a large, dark skinned man with a scruffy, greying beard and tattoos all over his four arms.

“Captain,” he greets, “this is Shouto Todoroki, the hero-in-training I told you about.”

“Endeavor’s boy,” the man acknowledges, his many arms crossed over his chest. Shouto winces internally. “Your father is a capable man. I expect his son to be the same.”

Deuce’s arm settles around Shouto’s shoulders. “Oh, I’ve seen his festival clips. He’ll provide fine protection to your ship.” Then he grins. “Of course I myself would be enough, if it comes down to it.”

The captain grunts in agreement. “You Whitebeards are the best ones to hire in this area.” He looks back at Shouto. “Show him to the berth. His chores will be assigned after.”

Deuce nods. “Let’s go kiddo,” he says in Shouto’s ear.

They go below deck to a room crammed with hammocks. There’s a distinct smell of feet combined with the salty scent of the sea.

“It smells,” Shouto says, crinkling his nose, before flushing because what the hell, _did he just say that out loud?_

Deuce just laughs. He pats Shouto’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Pick one that’s unused. I’ll be sleeping in the berth directly below the captain’s cabin. Spreading resources, y’know?”

Shouto doesn’t know how to feel about that, but resigns himself to socializing at least with with his roommates for the foreseeable future. He claims one hammock in the corner, putting his suitcase on the tightly woven fabric.

“This is a merchant ship, so things can get pretty chaotic. Make sure to take care of your belongings,” warns the blue haired man. “We’ll be their security detail until we reach Vladivostok. This route is actually part of Twelfth Division’s jurisdictions, but they’ve got their hands full with something else, so the rest of us has to pick up the slack. Second Division has a bunch of multilingual people, and since Firefist can speak Japanese, a bunch of Japanese recruits sail under him. That’s why we get a big chunk of responsibilities here. Not as much as the Sixteenth, but South East Asia is a very busy area so yeah. That’s why I’m here.”

“But isn’t your office in Brazil?” Shouto frowns. “That’s a long way.”

“Yeah, we’re usually responsible for routes through the Carribean and to the States. We have our methods of going around, though,” Deuce assures, grinning brightly. “Meet me on the deck after you’ve changed out of your uniform. Can you cook?”

Unspeakable memories flashes through Shouto’s mind. “I can cook instant soba,” he says.

“Then you’ll stay out of the kitchen and will get onto cleaning duty. Sailing is a lot of hard work. You don’t pitch in, you don’t eat,” says the masked man. “Just be glad we won’t even be here long enough to get laundry duty. We’ll be ashore in three days, then we’ll meet up with Firefist. I know ship life isn’t easy for newbies, but do try to get used to it.”

“Roger,” Shouto says.

There’s a strange smile on Deuce’s face before he leaves. Shouto sits down on the thankfully reasonably clean wooden floor, nausea bubbling up already. He couldn’t imagine living like this for a whole month. _How does Uraraka do it?_ he muses. He hopes the feeling will eventually subside.

Shouto hears footsteps tracing back. Deuce pops his head into the room. “I almost forgot. If you want to hurl, I suggest doing it where you won’t have to clean it.”

 _Good point._ Shouto places his warm hand onto his chest then down to his stomach. He gives Deuce a thumbs up with his cold half.

He’s up for any challenge. He’s going to become a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea of how many days does it actually take for a ship to go from point A to B, so let’s just assume quirks can have a hand in making the journey shorter.
> 
> Edit: fixed some details that bugged me


	3. Chapter 3

The first day was peaceful. Shouto only vomited twice over the railings (after lunch and dinner respectively) and found mold under the pile of everything in the storage room. So basically, nothing happened.

 

There was an altercation on the second day. Well,  _ almost. _

 

“Pirate ship at 12 o’clock!” shouted the guy on watch from the crows nest, who had a far-seeing quirk. “They haven’t spotted us yet, but they will soon!”

 

Deuce ran over to Shouto’s side of the ship. He squinted his eyes—an action that Shouto later realized triggered the zoom in mechanism of his mask. 

 

“Shit, that’s a big galleon,” he said.

 

Shouto couldn’t wait to discard the mop in his hands in exchange for a good old fashioned hero smackdown. “We can share,” he suggested.

 

The blue haired man laughed like Shouto just told an especially funny joke. “Nah, kid. Technically I’m not your supervisor, so if I let you fight right now, we might get in trouble. Besides, I can take them.” He squinted again. “Watch my body until I get back, okay?”

 

“Wha-“

 

Deuce went slack and Shouto scrambled to catch him in his arms. Shouto checked for his pulse while his own heart pounded in his chest. The masked man was breathing normally, heartbeat steady. Just unconscious. 

 

“Is he alright?” Shouto looked up to see the four-armed captain staring at Deuce with a smidge of concern on his stern face.

 

“I think it’s just his quirk,” Shouto said. It’s a weird quirk too.  _ Some kind of soul transfer? _ Shouto wondered. “He’s probably fighting on the pirate ship right now.”  _ Somehow. _

 

Except there wasn’t any fighting. According to the guy on watch, the pirates just decided to change course without spotting them at all.

 

Deuce opened his eyes minutes later. There was couple seconds of disorientation, evident from the scrunch of his forehead. He took a moment to get used to the morning sunlight, but otherwise sat up quickly and smiled. “Crisis averted.”

 

Shouto couldn’t help but be curious. “What did you do?”

 

“Told the pirate captain to go the other way,” he shrugged, like it wasn’t something significant. “My quirk is useful like that.”

 

Shouto felt like he should be sprouting green hair and freckles when he asked the next question. “What’s your quirk?”

 

Deuce stared at him thoughtfully, obviously weighing the pros and cons of telling him. “Mind-jacking,” he decided to reply, “I can take over someone’s body, basically. It’s triggered if...” he halted and grinned instead. “How about this’ll be your homework? Figure out exactly how my quirk works. You have the whole month.”

 

Shouto didn’t have a problem with it, he still doesn’t. He does hero analyses in class all the time. The real life application should be simple enough.

 

Except Deuce hasn’t used his powers again since. How can he figure something out if he can’t even observe it?

 

Shouto goes to the berth that night drenched from head to toe courtesy of the receding (finally!) storm outside. He sizzles the water out of his clothes, hair and skin before throwing his body onto his hammock. He almost dozes off when he remembers the salve Deuce gave him for the rope burns. It turns out that the pro hero once went to medical school. There’s a long story there but Shouto doesn’t want to know, not right then. He’s too damn tired. His whole body aches. He doubts he’ll wake up unless the ship’s on fire.

 

Or he gets flipped off his hammock.

 

“Oof!” Shouto hits the planks with a thud, fortunately not landing headfirst. He’s definitely awake now, though.

 

“Rise and shine, kid. We’re docking,” Deuce says, fingers still playing with the strings of Shouto’s hammock; the culprit. “Hope you speak English, ‘cause here on out, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who knows Japanese.”

 

Shouto’s English grades are decent, and Endeavor has made sure he’s at least conversational. He is far from fluent though. “As long as Firefist does,” he says from the floor.

 

“Seriously kid. On the seas, the Whitebeards use English as our lingua franca. We only speak other languages for clients or in private,” the blue haired man says. “It’ll be even harder in our offices, where we mostly use the local language and only English to ones that don’t understand it.”

 

“Deuce-kuuun!!”

 

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be anyone who speaks Japanese here,” the heterochromatic boy accuses when he hears the shout from outside, muted through the wooden planks.

 

Deuce shakes his head. “Haruta just adores Izo enough to adopt a few phrases into his daily vocabulary. He never managed to pick up the language.”

 

Shouto doesn’t know who Izo is, but he must have made a huge impression for someone to pick a hero name in his mother tongue. Haruta is a short, boyish looking man with choppy auburn hair and a wicked smile. He barrels into the room straight at Deuce, who catches him in a hug easily.

 

“I’m sorry we’ve been so busy! My men will take over from here.” He talks fast and in English, but fortunately still clear enough for Shouto to decipher.

 

“No problem, Commander,” Deuce replies in the same language. Then it dawns on Shouto that this over excited midget with the poofy green getup is in charge of this base, actually a pro hero, and not some intern like him.

 

“So this is Ace’s new understudy.” 

 

_ Ace _ ? Shouto blinks. He then remembers to get up and introduce himself. It’s only polite. “My name is Shouto Todoroki.” He bows. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Heh. You remind me of Ace and his manners, when he chooses to have one,” the man says, then turns to Deuce. “Let’s cut to the chase. You only need me to get to Ace, right? So to where?”

 

“I talked to Firefist not long ago.”  _ So Ace must be Firefist’s real name _ , Shouto thinks. “Just drop us off on the Spadille, please.”

 

“Sure!” Haruta skips to each of them, linking his arms and gripping tight. Shouto tries to adjust his elbows, but they won’t budge. “Hold on tight, alright?”

 

It feels like he is smacked from behind by a wrecking ball and into a black hole, being sucked in then spat out to the other side, free-falling down head first onto sturdy wooden floors. This all happened in less than a second. Shouto can only gasp for air as all his wind has been knocked out of him. He hears Deuce’s groans to his left. From the corner of his eye, he confirms that they are both lie sprawled, face down.

 

“Ugh. I can never get used to that.” The blue haired man sits up first, rubbing his head. 

 

“It took me sixteen years! I’d be pissed if you did!” Haruta cackles. Shouto manages to look up and finds Haruta still on his feet, not winded in the slightest.

 

The short man buzzes in place restlessly. “Ah, I want to see Ace, but I really have to go back.” He pouts. “But ah! I can always visit later!” He grins and disappears. There is only a pair of bright green shoeprints left where he once stood.

 

Seeing Shouto’s puzzled face, Deuce explains, “Haruta’s quirk is called Checkpoint. When he stands still for too long, he leaves footprints that he can teleport back to. He has special shoes now that lets him place a footprint on command, or color the important ones. We use his ability to connect our bases around the world. We’d rather not use it if we don’t have to, though.” He stands up, dusting away at his coat. “You know, he must be impressed with you. First timers usually faint.”

 

_ Yay me, _ Shouto wants to say, but is only able to let out a groan. Deuce laughs at him.

 

“C’mon, let’s go up on deck.” He offers Shouto a hand, which the boy takes gladly then wobbles onto his feet. With feet still jelly, Shouto follows Deuce out the cabin door.

 

“Kid, welcome aboard the Piece of Spadille.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ace appears in the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> Edit: Forgot the Spade Pirates got a canon ship name.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouto meets the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I found out that there’s actually a site where you can count how long it will take to travel by ship. Thank you internet.
> 
> Edit: added a new scene worth a couple hundred words. Decided to put it in this chapter instead of the next one.

The room turns out to be a small storage room, a small hallway connecting it to two bigger ones. They go out through a hatch in front of the door of the first one. Shouto walks up the steps and onto the middle of the deck, into the night. Stars sprinkle the pitch black sky. The moon, the light up in the crows nest and the ones hung in corners illuminate the ship, which is clear of people as far as Shouto can see. Only miles of clear water and endless sky greet them.

 

Shouto breathes in the cool sea breeze. His body warms automatically beneath his button-up shirt.

 

“Welcome to the Atlantic Ocean,” Deuce says, his coat flapping in the wind. “We just jumped back 12 hours. I’d offer breakfast, but it seems we only have dinner.”

 

Right on cue, Shouto’s stomach growls. The blue haired man laughs and opens the door into the galley, where the smell of a small feast wafts through. Plates upon plates of juicy-looking meat are on the long table, along with a big bowl of fruit and another of freshly steamed rice. Shouto counts twenty people sitting around, doing more talking than eating. The crew zeroes in on them immediately, except for one dark haired man who has his face planted on his food.

 

“Deuce! You’re back!” A guy with a cowboy hat says. Deuce sits down on the spot next to him and pulls Shouto along to do the same. “Dig in,” he murmurs, nudging the boy towards the food. He takes a plate and piles it up himself. Shouto hesitates. It’s impolite.

 

“So is this our new crew member?” A heavy set woman takes the seat beside Shouto and smiles, one hand on the table propping up her chin.

 

“I’m Shouto Todoroki. Nice to meet you. Please take care of me.” He bows slightly.

 

“Oh, he’s precious. Ace will have fun with him,” another woman walks by, short hair swept over one eye. An unlit cigarette rests between her quirked lips. “Any other news for us, Deuce? ‘Cause we sure have some for you, all three stacks of paperwork worth.”

 

Shouto gets onto eating with the topic change. He doesn’t have an idea what kind of meat is being served, but it tastes as delicious as it looks. He multitasks eating and observing the conversation.

 

“Y’all are assholes,” Deuce says. “Especially you, Cornelia. You better light that up outside, because if I can’t make you quit killing yourself, the least I can do is stop you from killing everyone else.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yada, yada, I know the drill.” She tucks in the cancer stick into the breast pocket of her fur-lined coat. “Now spill.”

 

Deuce sighs, took a bite of the tasty mystery steak, and begins telling them all about his week. He wipes his mouth and ends it with his brief trip to Japan. “I met Tama. I promised her we’ll all go bring her presents on her birthday.”

 

“Did someone say Tama?!” The dark haired sleeping man sits up ramrod straight, grains of rice falling from his face and onto his chest, courtesy of his yellow open shirt. His skin is freckled, _ much like Midoriya’s _ , Shouto thinks, his eyes steel grey on a very expressive face.

 

“Boss, I told you to take your meds.” Deuce chides and huffs. “I can’t believe this. I was gone for  _ one week. One week _ , and suddenly no one takes care of anything in this ship.”

 

_ Boss?  _ Shouto needs time to wrap his head around the man currently having his

 

“That’s why we all need you,” Firefist says, batting his eyelashes, causing small clumps of food to drip from his eyelashes. Deuce hands him his used handkerchief longsufferingly. Firefist wipes down his face with it, missing a smidge of sauce on his temple. “Also I forgot to tell you I ran out.”

 

“I’ll pick it up the next time we land,” the blue haired man says, “and when the hell will that be?”

 

The man with the cowboy hat hands him a drink consolingly. “We’re still chasing Joker’s trafficking ring, which according to our intel is heading for the States. If we don’t catch them by then, we’ll need to refuel along the way. So maybe in three to four days, in Santo Domingo.”

 

“Shit.” Deuce finishes the whole tankard. “We haven’t caught them yet?”

 

Cornelia scowls. “They’re fast. We got close once, but one guy onboard has some kind of propeller quirk. Blasted away.”

 

“We won’t be caught off guard again,” Firefist stands up and announces to the entire room, eyes burning with promise, instantly commanding everyone’s attention. “Next time, we’ll be ready.”

 

“Aye!” All crew members say in unison.

 

Shouto himself nods resolutely. As the room’s focus disperses from Firefist, Shouto finds himself to be the receiving end of his. Grey eyes stare him down.

 

“You’re our new intern. What do you expect to get, being here?” He puts his hands on his hips and leans back lazily. “Why are you here?”

 

Mismatched eyes stare back. “I want to learn how to control my fire better.”

 

“And what’s your goal?” The man asks, “your dream?”

 

“Number One Hero.” Shouto replies without missing a beat.

 

A manic grin stretches across Firefist’s mouth. “Then just  _ learning _ won’t do. You must  _ master _ your fire.”

 

He holds out his arm. Flames flare from the crook of his elbow to the tips of his fingers—no, the entirety of his forearm becomes  _ transparent _ , a flickering mass of reds to yellow, heat focused on a finger glowing white, before he snuffs it out by tucking it into his fist.

 

Smoke sizzles out. Shouto stares in awe.

 

“I’ve seen videos of you fighting with flames that will sooner burn the allies by your side than your enemies,” the man says. He jabs a finger at Shouto’s chest. “You can’t save anybody from danger if you  _ are _ the danger.”

 

Shouto sees Deuce hiding a snort behind his tankard. Firefist ignores him.

 

“As long as you are under my care, you are not to use your ice side offensively nor defensively. You’ve honed it enough. Now you gotta give your fire side the treatment you had refused it for over a decade.”

 

Everyone is leaving the room, one by one collecting empty plates and tankards. Even Deuce leaves Shouto at their boss’ mercy with a pat on his back.

 

“We’ll have lessons and spar everyday,” Firefist continues, “aside from pyrokinesis, we’ll work on hand to hand combat. You’ll get last pick of chores until you can scratch me. From what I’ve seen, a _ten year old_ _me_ can wipe the floor with you.” He puts both hands on his hips, smug and condescending. “Any questions?”

 

Shouto wants to protest, especially on the not-using-ice-for-a-month and is-weaker-than-a-ten-year-old parts, but fails to find a rational argument; he  _ has _ been terrible at managing his quirk, and Firefist might have been a tiny hellion—Shouto doesn’t have enough data to disprove.

 

Half-baked words lay frozen and dead in his mouth. He swallows them. “No.”

 

Firefist claps his hand. “Great! Since you just woke up, you’ll get a watch shift tonight. Skull will tell you everything you might want to know in the crows nest—after you finish washing  _ all _ the dishes, of course.”

  
  
  
  


—-

  
  
  
  


Skull’s quirk is useless for battle. He can remember every single detail of a subject, but only if he’s interested in it. Fortunately, he is very enthusiastic towards everything hero and villain related, thus easily reaching expert status in heroics and criminal data. He plays an integral part in the Second Division operations, and Shouto suspects, maybe even in the entire Whitebeard Agency.

 

They have been talking through the night. Skull has told everything Shouto needed to know about the ship, running his mouth until he runs out of information to tell, leading him to start filling him in on each crew member instead. Including, and especially, himself.

 

“Ace was really cool to me back when he was a rookie pro hero. I was a local journalist, you see,” he says, gesturing animatedly, though only a stoic skull stares back at Shouto. His macabre appearance makes it hard for Shouto to keep eye contact at first, but Skull is an excellent converser that manages to make even  _ Todoroki Shouto  _ relax and react from the third sentence.

 

“We chatted at a restaurant for an interview, but I ended up talking more than him! When he called me up a year later and asked if I’d be interested working for the Whitebeard Agency under him, I was ecstatic. Being part of hero work is so much better than just seeing it firsthand!”

 

“That’s amazing,” Shouto says, a little awkwardly, still stiff with his English but thankfully able to keep up with Skull’s rapid-fire and slightly Portuguese-accented speech.

 

The man nods. “Being born with this quirk, I never thought I’d be able to help save people, but Ace gave me a chance to do it.” The bones making up his face can’t emote, but Shouto can tell he is smiling gently by the tone of his voice. “I’m forever grateful to him.”

 

“So Firefist made you change careers from journalist to pro hero?”

 

Skull throws his long, curly haired head back in laughter. “No, no! I’m not a pro! I’m the ship’s log keeper. My role is not a fighter. I’m simply that guy everyone calls when they need to recall a certain information.” The rigid row of teeth smiles at Shouto. “Only eight people on the crew are heroes: Firefist, Masked Deuce, Saber, Dogya, Banshee, Finnamore, and Wallace. With you, there’s eight. Everyone else are normal people with everyday jobs. For example, Carmen cooks and Cornelia is our walking, talking support department. We can all hold our own in a fight when we have to, though.”

 

Shouto glances at the blade sheathed on Skulls hip, the hilt generously decorated with his namesake.  _ Well that explains his sword.  _ “But you’re technically still a civilian. Isn’t that illegal?”

 

“We play by different rules here, out in the open seas,” the older man says. “On a ship, there’s specific roles to play. Roles that pro heroes may not be qualified for. We normal folks are necessary. We’re not supposed to fight, but when we do, it’s chalked up to self-defense.”

 

“That makes sense,” says Shouto. Before he can pick more of Skull’s brain, the man wearing a cowboy hat barges inside.

 

“Skull, Deuce needs ‘ya for paperwork. I’ll take over watch,” he says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

 

The bone-faced man stands up. “Thanks, Saber.”

 

“Better you working on those reports than me,” he shrugs, then unexpectedly turns to Shouto. “Boss says you can go sleep, you’ve got a  _ big _ day tomorrow. Skull, show him to his bunk, will ‘ya?”

 

Skull nods and leads Shouto out. The moon is high up in the pitch black sky. There’s them, a big guy steering the ship, Cornelia out smoking with pajamas on, and no one else.

 

When presented with his hammock, Shouto remembers an important detail.

 

“I left my suitcase in the merchant ship,” he whispers in the room full of sleeping men, eyes widening with realization.

 

“I’ll ask Commander Haruta to come by later. Just sleep for now,” Skull assures. The last thing Shouto seea before the door closes is a pair of hollow eye sockets, peering into his soul. “Trust me, you’ll need it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training starts (and ends soon after).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t reread the fourth chapter after I added a new scene yesterday, I suggest you do that first. So yeah, this chapter finished quicker than I thought it would. Reminder that Ace is twenty here. Everyone from One Piece is in their pre-timeskip age, so Luffy is 17, a second year in high school just like class 1A.

****Deuce stops Shouto on his way to his training with Firefist. The older man grabs his shoulder in the hallway and says seriously, “The infirmary is in the west wing of the ship. There’s a sign up front, you can’t miss it.”

 

“...okay.” Shouto blinks at the warning, but is determined to trudge ahead. It’s what he’s here to do, it’s not like he can chicken out.

 

Deuce lets him go to the deck with a pat on the back and an expression that weeps at his naivety. Shouto watches him walk away in befuddlement. He’s been training with _Endeavor_ since he was _four_. How bad can Firefist’s lessons possibly be?

  
  


—

  
  


“Guh!” Shouto spits blood over the railing, twenty minutes later. He trembles to get to his feet, arms and legs mottled with yellowing bruises. Under the clothes Haruta has retrieved for him earlier that morning, are probably a couple fractured ribs.

 

“Your movements are too big. You’re always wide open.” The culprit chides with a mean smile, not a scratch on him. “Don’t tell me that’s all ‘ya got!”

 

The blood filling Shouto’s mouth makes it hard for him to verbalize anything. His face should be turning an ugly purple any time now. He’s pretty sure his jaw isn’t in one piece.

 

Shouto answers the only way he can: with a deep breath and straight charge towards the smug looking man. Firefist catches his fist and _twists_ , slamming Shouto on the floor and practically sitting on him to submission. Shouto gasps, his injured ribs hitting the wooden planks.

 

“Y’know, I have a little brother about your age,” Firefist makes small talk over him, “he’s a weak, reckless crybaby, but you’re doing _so much_ worse than him.”

 

“Ace.” One of the crew members spectating on the sidelines finally intervenes. Saber stands up, hands up in a placating manner in front of him. “Don’t you think this is a bit too much?”

 

 _Hell yeah it is,_ Shouto tries to grunt out but fails.

 

The cowboy-hatted man isn’t finished. “You can go all out in spars with Luffy because he’s _Luffy_. Shouto isn’t made out of rubber.”

 

Firefist pouts in protest. “I’m testing his reflexes too. It’s not my fault he sucks at dodging.” But he does free his grip on Shouto’s arms and got off him.

 

“Not every high schooler is a monster like your brother, Ace,” Carmen deadpans. She’s a woman with wild pink hair, a yellow fan almost always on hand to blow the pesky strands away from her face. “Stop having weird expectations. Treat Shouto like you would a normal kid.”

 

The freckled man sighs. “You’re right,” he admits. A hand comes into Shouto’s line of sight. “Can you stand up?”

 

Shouto accepts it gingerly, but those fists that had no problem pummeling him a minute earlier is surprisingly gentle in pulling him up to his feet.

 

“Let’s get you patched and rested up. We’ll continue with fire lessons after dinner.” Firefist’s voice is softer, almost soothing. He looks a bit guilty.

 

Cornelia takes the cigarette out of her mouth to whistle. “Deuce is going to be pissed.”

  
  


—

  
  


“Ace. You do realize I’m not Marco, right?” Deuce says in exasperation. He sets Shouto on the bed, medical tools already prepped on the table beside it. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. He checks Shouto’s injuries with gloved hands, eyes skimming the damage. “These will take time to heal, you idiot. Are you trying to incapacitate him for the rest of his stay here?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Firefist apologizes without preamble. “Is it really that bad? We still have some Mansherry’s Tears left, right?”

 

The blue haired man nods. “I’ll give him a drop or two.” He moves to get a vial of clear liquid from the cabinet. Shouto notices that all the bottles inside are stuck with magnets to prevent collision when the waves are rough.

 

“There’s this tiny girl whose tears can instantly heal people at the cost of their stamina. Mansherry’s friends with Ace’s brother, so we managed to get a few vials for free. They’re so expensive otherwise,” Deuce explains. The vial’s cap is connected to a pipette. He drips a drop into Shouto’s mouth.

 

A refreshing feeling sweeps through Shouto’s body. There’s a cool rush as his bones mend together and the bruises fade from his skin. It feels just like one of Recovery Girl’s smooches, along with the tremendous amount of exhaustion that follows afterwards.

 

“Ace will bring your lunch here,” says the blue haired man. “You’re on bed rest until you can move again. It’ll take a few hours, but you should be up and running before dinner.”

 

“Thank you,” Shouto manages to say.

 

“Yeah, thanks Deuce,” Firefist echoes.

 

The older man waves it off. “Just don’t do it again next time,” he says, then heads to the door. Firefist follows.

 

“I’ll be back after we grab a bite!” He grins as both of them walk out. Shouto is left to stare at the ceiling, reflecting on what just happened.

 

The fight feels like a slap in the face. If he were Bakugou, he would be gritting his teeth in frustration, but Shouto just feels empty. Is this all he can do? There’s a lot of moments in where he ached to call upon his ice in the fight, before remembering not to. Has he really been relying on that half of his quirk so much? He isn’t as good in hand to hand combat as some of his other classmates with more hands-on quirks; sure, he hasn’t won a single no-quirk spar against Ojiro, Midoriya, Kirishima, Bakugou, and recently Shinsou, but he doesn’t think he’s _this_ bad.

 

 _I’ve grown complacent._ Shouto is glad none of them are here to see him getting washed like some amateur. Or, heavens forbid, his father.

 

“Yer not really weak, y’ know.” Firefist comes in with a plate in his hand and food in his mouth. He unfolds a mini-table over Shouto’s sickbed and places the dish on top. He sits next to him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m just strong.”

 

“That still means I’m not strong,” Shouto counters. He makes no move to sit up; he can’t. Firefist doesn’t try to help him.

 

“True. You’re not,” he says, “yet. But I see the potential in you.” He leans onto the bedside table, one hand supporting his head. Shouto is surprised when he switches to Japanese. “You have two quirks, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Shouto replies in his mother tongue. “My mom and my dad’s quirks.”

 

Firefist smiles. “Me too.”

 

Shouto twists his head to face him so fast. “Really?”

 

His mentor frowns. “Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He lifts his idle hand, turning it to flickering embers. “This is what I got from my mom. She has good ‘ol pyrokinesis, but mine has a nature more similar to my uncle Dragon. It’s called Fire Matter. I can turn my body and limited amounts of the environment into fire.” The flames die as he sets his arm down. “My other quirk comes from my old man’s family. It’s called Conqueror's Will. I don’t like him much, so I don’t use it as much.” He chuckles. “I guess we’re pretty alike, huh?”

 

Shouto narrows his eyes accusingly. “So you talked about me not using my fire when you’re doing the same.”

 

The man flicked Shouto’s forehead lightly.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Unlike you, I actually trained to get both of my quirks under control,” he says. “Granted, Uncle Shanks beat it into me. Fire is just way cooler and my mother is an awesome teacher, so I mastered it first. It has become second nature to me, so I always reach for it first.”

 

“Isn’t it hard to control?”

 

Firefist laughs. “Very,” he says. “At first, I’d combust into flames everytime I get mad, and I was a very angry kid. Then I met my brothers. In one of my fits, I accidentally burnt one of them.” Shouto looks at him in horror. “I couldn’t live with myself. It kills me inside every time I see that scar on his face.” He studies the bedridden boy. “His looks a lot like yours, actually. That pushed me to get it under control. I basically quarantined myself with my mother, refused to meet anyone else until I get it down.”

 

He twirls his hand and a tiny glowing ball of green light appears out of thin air. “You have to understand that the fire is part of you. It’s an extension of your body.” As he waves his finger around, the green ball follows. “When you say burn, it asks how much.” The ball of light pulses to be brighter, then dims back. “In my case, when I conjure fire out of the oxygen in the air, I can even tell it to combust whenever I want.” He flares all five of his fingers and the green lights explodes right in the middle. Smoke wafts out and a fiery hand fans it out. When it turns back to flesh and bone, there isn’t a soot mark on it.

 

“You should start ahead with some breathing exercises. Those you can do right here, lying down,” he says. “When you can move your hand, put it in front of you and set it on fire as you breathe out. Pull it back as you breathe in. Do it until you don’t have to try to do it anymore, until it comes as easy as breathing. Then try it on each finger.” He demonstrates it briefly. Shouto observes the way not a single lick of flame flares out of place, how every ember dissipate into nothing the moment Firefist wants it to.

 

“When you can do that, up the intensity of the flames. You know that feeling right? Like it’s burning your whole body from inside.” Shouto does know it very well. It happens every time he wills his fire temperature up. “There’s nothing you can do to avoid that from happening, but you can focus the feeling into a single part of your body so only a part of you burns hotter. If you condense it in your fist, you’re basically attacking with the firepower of your whole body in a single point. The effect is devastating.”

 

“Like Endeavor’s ultimate attacks,” Shouto says. _Fire_ fist _must do the same thing,_ he realizes.

 

The dark haired man nods and continues, “Your father has also built a resistance to it. My quirk is a bit different. Since with Fire Matter, I _am_ fire, I just learned to accept it. It takes me longer to dim down whenever I burn hotter, and the feeling subsides way later. If you see any scorch marks on the ship, it’s because my skin still sizzles anything I touch minutes after I reign it in.”

 

Firefist looks at Shouto contempatingly. “For you, you have your cold side. I don’t doubt that you can manage your temperature with it, but since it’s your fire quirk training, I forbid it.” He lips pull into a smirk. “If you get it down the hard way, the easy way will be a breeze.”

 

“Alright.” Shouto accepts the challenge.

 

The man stands up and dust down his non-flammable pants. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Go eat your mashed potatoes with grilled seaking. I trust you have no problem reheating it?” He grins widely.

 

Shouto cracks a smile. “No,” he says. Some strength has returned to the tips of his body. He feels so much better already. “No problem at all.”


	6. Interlude: Midoriya Izuku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 1000+ hits and almost 100 kudos! Even though my writing has lots of flaws (I really need a beta lol) I’m glad if you’re enjoying it so far :)

Izuku is buzzing while hovering on his seat during his flight, until a flight attendant notices and kindly tells him to sit down and wear his seatbelt properly. Red floods Izuku’s face as he scrambles through his apology. He is flustered for a few minutes before the hype overrides his brain, contorting his face back to a madman’s grin. He’s going to America! For training! Just like what All Might did in his youth!

 

He opens his phone as soon as they are permitted to, and uses the plane wifi to access the chat app.

 

_ Mom! I’ve boarded the plane!  _ he sends first, then a similar text to All Might. He opens the class chatroom next, only to find out he’s the only one online.

 

“They’re all probably still asleep or on the road,” he murmurs, glancing past his snoring seatmate to the early morning sky outside the window.  _ Actually, sleep seems like a good idea _ , he thinks, but when he tries, his giddiness pulls him back awake.

 

In the end, 12 hours on the air conquers Izuku’s excitement. He snaps up from his nap when their landing is announced. He came prepared with his international data plan. As soon as he reaches the airport, he calls his mother to ease her worries, like a good son should. He belatedly realizes there’s free internet connection provided by the airport and logs in quickly, announcing his arrival to All Might and in the group chat (which has stacked up over 999 notifications during his lengthy flight).

 

_ I’m on American soil!!  _ He announces in between a conversation of what to have for dinner in downtown Fukuoka.

 

_ Dude, I’m so jealous,  _ comes a quick reply from Kaminari.

 

_ Ooh send us a picture!  _ Mina requests. Izuku snaps one as he waits in line for his passport to be stamped. He sees that fifteen people read his photo, which should include Kacchan who is online, but chooses to stay silent. Izuku chuckles.

 

_ Lucky bastard,  _ Jirou sends.

 

_ I’m glad you arrived safely Midoriya-kun!!!  _ Iida, bless his heart, sends out.

 

_ That’s really great Deku-kun! I hope you have fun and learn a lot!  _ Izuku smiles at Ochako’s message. Many other well wishes flood the chat. He replies a quick thank you to all of them.

 

Ochako posts a thumbs up before sending,  _ Me and Kirishima are still waiting @ Frankfurt TAT _

 

_ We’ve been playing cards for like the last two hours,  _ confirms Kirishima.

 

_ I bet Round Face swindled you out of all your money already,  _ Kacchan shockingly joins the conversation, unsurprisingly avoiding the topic of Izuku in America.

 

_ Ooh he’s speaking from experience,  _ Mina teases.

 

_ I don’t bet money while playing cards, ok!  _ Ochako protests.  _ You’re the only exception cuz you’re a rich jackass with a shitty poker face :P _

 

_ Omg Uraraka you’re the best, sends  _ Kaminari.  _ Someone help me up my chair iM dYIng _

 

_ Sending you virtual love and support, bro,  _ Kirishima comes to the rescue.

 

Izuku smiles at their shenanigans all the way through immigration. When he reaches the lobby and looks up, a sign with his name written on it in both kanji and romaji catches his eye.

 

The boy holding it looks to be around Izuku’s age, with pink hair over a flowery bandanna and a pair of blue goggles. There’s a taller, long haired blond guy next to him, his eyes hidden under visor sunglasses. They both wear a distinct blue and white uniform and stood up so straight, Izuku feels called out on his posture.

 

The green haired boy walks up to them. The previously bickering pair stops to stare at him. The pink one breaks into a smile.

 

“Midoriya Izuku-san, isn’t it?” He tucks the sign under one arm and offers his other hand.

 

_ American customs!  _ Izuku shakes his hand enthusiastically, several times. Izuku gulps before he readies his warbled English. “Yes, it’s me! Nice to meet you!”

 

The pink haired boy laughs. “It’s nice to meet you too, Izuku-san! My name is Coby, and this is my best friend, Helmeppo. We’re both marines in training tasked to escort you to the base. Garp-san is expecting you.”

 

“Please take care of me!” Izuku bows down so fast he almost gets whiplash.

 

“You can be casual around us. We’re all students here,” Coby says sheepishly as he leads them inside a government car.

 

The other guy gets in last and slams the driver’s door shut. He starts the vehicle. “Say something out of line to the superiors and you’ll get decked, though.”

 

Coby giggles. “But it’s good to stay true to your ideal justice! Garp-san especially appreciate people with backbone. Without that, you can’t rise to the top!”

 

Izuku blinks. “Ideal justice?”

 

“Yeah! Oh, you’re studying to be a hero right? That’s not so different from being a marine,” he says, eyes thoughtful and sparkling. “It’s like, when you’re chasing a criminal—well, a villain, in your case— what’s your attitude towards it? What are your limits?”

 

“I’ve…” Izuku’s eyes widen. “I’ve never thought about it before. I guess I’ll do everything I can to save everyone.” He stares at his scarred hands, flashes of Eri, Kouta and Iida’s stricken faces as he saves them just in time crossing his mind. He remembers the horror villains bring, the fright on Kacchan’s face as the slime monster suffocated him. “I just want everyone to keep their smiles.”

 

He looks up to to see Coby and the blond haired guy—  _ gosh, what’s his name  _ —observing him like he’s an interesting specimen. Heat floods Izuku’s face.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed!” Coby quickly says. “That’s a really good answer!”

 

“Kinda pretentious, but okay,” the other guy says, stopping on a red light.

 

“It’s not pretentious,” the pink haired boy assures. “Helmeppo’s just being a dick.”

 

_ So that’s his name,  _ Izuku swears to remember it. “What about you two?”

 

“Eh, I just don’t want assholes like my dad to run around freely,” Helmeppo says nonchalantly.

 

“His dad was a corrupt marine,” whispers Coby, “he tried to kill us.”

 

Izuku gasps.

 

The light turns green. The blond haired boy steps on the gas. “It’s a long story.”

 

“Mine is even longer.” Coby laughs. “Before I met Helmeppo, I was kidnapped for a few years by a villain and her gang. Saw some horrible things there. Don’t want that happening to anyone else.” His eyes turn serious. “That’s why I don’t think I can kill anyone, even if they’re a criminal. I’ve had enough of senseless loss of life. I can’t stand it.”

 

“That’s awful!” Izuku blanches. “I… I think I’m the same. Defeating is one thing, but I don’t think I can bring myself to kill either.” He says earnestly, “You’re amazing, Coby, to get out and get to where you are now.”

 

The young marine-in-training scratches behind a reddening ear. “I didn’t actually do anything. Luffy-san, Garp-san’s grandson, was the one who saved me.”

 

“I can’t stand that idiot,” Helmeppo comments, unasked.

 

“Luffy-san is a great man,” Coby states.

 

“He’s alright, but I still don’t like him,” the blond haired boy says. He pulls up into a gated clearing, a white flag bearing a seagull fluttering from on top of the tower inside. “We’re here.”

 

Izuku follows the two boys with his suitcase in tow, through a grassy field and into the past the towering building. The green haired boy walks in awe of the sturdy white walls as he is led to the back of the building, where several training grounds lay; some bustling with soldiers and others empty, ready to be used.

 

An imposing figure with tan skin, grey hair and a wide grin stands in the middle of one of the clearings. Izuku recognizes him immediately. His All Might-like build wears the same white suit he donned at the conference, with the same white coat draped over his shoulders.

 

“Took you long enough, you brats.” Garp’s voice is gruff with age but still has a bellowing quality, which again, reminds Izuku of his mentor.  _ No wonder they are friends,  _ Izuku thinks,  _ but they’re also different.  _ He can’t put a finger into what it is, but while both men are intimidating, with All Might he always feels safe and sound. Garp’s presence, on the other hand, gives out an underlying sense of dread.

 

“Garp-san!” Both marine-in-training halt and salute. Izuku, at a loss at what to do, mimics them a few seconds late.

 

Garp laughs. “Our new recruit! Right here, right now is your initiation.” The UA student stands straighter, eyes wide, before narrowing as he starts strategizing.

Garp grins. “Thirty seconds. Coby will be your opponent. If I don’t like what I see, you’re going back home.”

 

The old marine steps back and instantly, Coby is in front of Izuku’s face, kicking up and bruising his jaw. Izuku calls for One For All, power crackling through his body at full cowl as he flips in the air and lands strong, Coby already swinging a punch to his face. Izuku catches it easily and throws him out of bounds by upping his power percentage a bit. Izuku uses the moment the pink haired boy flies through the air to catch his breath, only to be met by a leg swinging at his head. He manages to duck, and with hundreds of hours worth of sparring with his classmates rushing through his reflexes, grabs the pink haired boy by the collar and slams him to the floor, his other hand balled into a crackling fist.

 

“Wow, you’re really strong, Izuku-san!” Coby smiles. “As expected, I can’t win against your quirk.”

 

“You were amazing too,” Izuku praises, because it’s true.  _ He’s so fast and agile, maybe a speed quirk? And his blows were no joke too, an all around enhancer type? Or- _

 

“You pass,” Garp says. “You boys show him around, okay?” He waves his hand and turns away.

 

Izuku follows the chorus of “yes sir”s, then the two boys as they round the corner to a smaller building which Izuku assumes to be their room and board. Mind still on the fight, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

 

“Coby, is your quirk speed enhancement? Because you were really fast, I could barely see you! I have a friend like that-“

 

Izuku stops when Helmeppo snorts. “He wasn’t using his quirk at all.”

 

The green haired boy freezes. “What?”

 

“Well, there’s a reason why we’re trying to be marines and not heroes,” Coby starts, still walking ahead, Izuku is forced to catch up. “I’m sorry for confusing you. My quirk is Empathy; I can feel other people’s feelings.”

 

They walk up the stairs. “It’s not flashy at all, and I could just study psychology or something, but I was set on catching criminals,” he continues. “My dream of becoming a hero died when I was four. After some research, I decided to become a marine instead.”

 

For once, Izuku is at a loss for words. He knows Coby’s feelings too well, but can’t just reveal his quirkless past.

 

“You’re lucky to not born with a shitty quirk,” Helmeppo sneers, which is totally false— but again, Izuku can’t say.

 

Suddenly, the pink haired boy smiles at him. “I don’t know how, but thank you for understanding.”

 

_ He knows what I feel,  _ Izuku realizes.

 

“Once I’ve gotten the hang of it, my quirk is pretty handy anyway,” Coby says, leading them into a hallway.

 

“Ugh, it’s so unfair,” moans Helmeppo.

 

The freckle faced boy frowns. “Are you quirkless or something?”

 

“I might as well be,” he says.

 

Coby laughs. “On paper, it’s actually pretty cool. Metal Fusion, the ability to fuse his hands to a metal item.”

 

“The exact same quirk as my dad.”

 

Izuku tilts his head at the blond haired boy. “That sounds useful.”

 

He clearly doesn’t think so. “The catch is that once you fuse it, it’s permanent.”

 

“Aah.”

 

“My dad fused his arm to an axe. Going to the toilet is torturous, I assure you,” he says. “I love my knives but I’d like to keep my hands, thank you very much.”

 

Izuku refuses to see a quirk as useless. “Why not fuse something more practical, like a watch, for example?”

 

“You just came from the airport, Izuku-san,” reminds Coby, “Immigration for metal quirk wielders are just the worst.”

 

“And I bet you’re jet lagged,” Helmeppo says, opening a door with a letter and a three digit number on it. The room is simply furnished with two bunks, one stacked on top of the other, white walls and sunlight peeking behind the blinds.

 

“I  _ know _ you’re excited, but try to rest well,” Coby says. “Don’t burn yourself up just yet. That’s what Garp-san will do to you at training.”

 

Izuku sits on the bottom bunk. He is tired, but much too restless to be confined for the rest of the evening. “When will it start?” he asks eagerly.

 

His two new acquaintances, or perhaps friends, shares a look together that Izuku cannot decipher.

 

“I hope you’ve got a thick skull,” the blond muses.

 

Coby smiles encouragingly. “It starts tonight.”


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more transitional chapter before all the action starts.

Scorching heat runs through every vein of Shouto’s left side. The fever licks dangerously at the border to his dormant cold half, producing beads of cold sweat as he fights to reign his ice in. With a deep breath, Shouto extinguishes the hundredth ball of flame on his palm. He gasps like he hasn’t known air, ending the breathing exercise.

 

The infirmary door opens with a creak. The bedridden boy turns his head just enough to see who’s coming in.

 

“You look like shit,” Cornelia says, the cigarette absent from her mouth.

 

It takes a second for Shouto to process her words underneath all the pain. “I feel like shit,” he confirms.

 

She chortles. With long strides, she sashays to the cupboard, pocketing something Shouto can’t see. She takes out something from her other pocket—she has a  _ lot,  _ Shouto observes, _ what does she even use them for _ —and chucks it at Shouto. His right hand catches it.

 

“Deuce says he’s never seen you touch your phone. So, naturally, I went through your things and connected it to the ship’s router, in case you want to update your folks,” she says.

 

Shouto’s eyes widens as he unlocks his phone.  _ I’m the worst son ever.  _ It’s been almost a week and he hadn’t had a single thought about it. Dozens of missed calls and messages from his mom and sister (and dad) and more chat notifications than his phone can number stares back at him accusingly.

 

Frantically, and with one hand—Shouto is sure anything that comes into contact with his left will melt a horrible death—he first answers his family. Cornelia has already left when he calls his mom, and proceeds to be scolded thoroughly. She asks to video call, but Shouto vehemently refuses, listing just short of a hundred different excuses. He doesn’t want her to see the state he is in. Instead, he smiles and sends the very cropped selfie to both her and his worrywart sister.

 

_ I’m doing fine. I’ve been busy,  _ is what he sends Endeavor.  _ Firefist is teaching me well, _ he decides to add, since his dad will ask anyway.

 

Natsuo only sent him one message telling him to reply to their mom and sister. Since Shouto has done just that, he leaves it on read.

 

The Class 2-A group chat, on the other hand, as always, is bustling with activity. The second he opens it, signaling his “online” status, the barrage of messages pop up like crazy.

 

_ You’re alive!!!  _ is sent by at least five different people, each with only a slight change in exclamation mark use.

 

_ Barely,  _ Shouto thinks, but doesn’t send.

 

_ We thought you’ve drowned or something,  _ sends Jirou.

 

_ I’m glad you’re alright, Todoroki-san!  _ That one’s from Momo. Shouto hopes her internship is going well too, better than her unproductive venture in their first year.

 

_ That’s too fucking bad,  _ sends their resident grump. Though Bakugou’s sociability has improved leaps and bounds, Shouto is still taken aback every time he pipes up in the group chat.

 

Shouto sends them the same, curt excuse he gave his father.  _ I’ve been busy. _

 

_ Have you fought pirates yet, Todoroki?  _ Tsuyu asks.

 

_ Aah I bet you’ve been getting lots of action,  _ sends Kaminari,  _ it’s really not fair!!! _

 

A lot is true. He has been washing dishes, mopping floors, getting decked… Yeah, there’s  _ no way in hell _ he will elaborate.

 

_ There were pirates,  _ he sends, because it’s true, though Deuce had handled it on his own.  _ It’s been productive. _

 

_ Pics or it didn’t happen,  _ Bakugou challenges.

 

_ Won’t it be hard to take pics when you’re fighting pirates,  _ Sero, ever the voice of reason.

 

_ Don’t mind Bakugou,  _ sends Mina,  _ his ego is just bigger than usual since he’s been on the papers a lot lately. _

 

_ Perks of interning with the no.1 hero,  _ Jirou sends. 

 

Bakugou explodes,  _ It’s not a perk when I FUCKING EARNED IT. _

 

_ He’s been whining about that airbender guy from Shiketsu all week,  _ Sero sends,  _ that guy is interning with Hawks, so~ _

 

_ I DON’T FUCKING WHINE! _

 

_ Ehh, debatable,  _ Shinsou, of all people, chimes in.  _ Anyway doesn’t it feel like we’re trading Midoriya for Todoroki? _

 

Shouto frowns.  _ Midoriya? _

 

_ We haven’t heard from him again since the first day,  _ Tsuyu explains.

 

_ He’s totally dead,  _ Kaminari theorizes,  _ there’s no other explanation. Todoroki answering the chat before Midoriya? Either he’s not with us anymore, or it’s the apocalypse. _

 

_ Don’t be mean to Deku-kun,  _ Uraraka scolds.

 

_ Yeah, not cool, bro,  _ Kirishima sends.

 

_ See? Even these two are updating,  _ argues Kaminari.

 

_ @Uraraka Ochako @Kirishima Eijirou how’s your internship going?  _ Shouto diverts the topic. He’s also very curious. Chatting with his friends makes him wonder how they’re faring, especially the ones who are abroad too.

 

_ Sorry! It’s classified,  _ Uraraka sends, which leads to Shouto having many questions.

 

_ The only thing I can tell you is that after all this is over, Uraraka will beat each and every one of your asses in sparring,  _ adds Kirishima.

 

_ Speaking from experience, Shitty Hair? _

 

_ Heck yeah he is,  _ Uraraka replies, challenging. This escalates to a few promise matches and many bets. Shouto smiles and indulges himself; Kirishima has always had sound judgement.

 

“You’re having fun.”

 

Startled, Shouto turns his head away from his phone to see Firefist by the bed, folded arms serving as a pillow on the mattress. He sets down the phone. Firefist chuckles.

 

“Your skin is still flushed but not that red, good,” he observes, “can you stand now?”

 

They’re stiff at first, but unlike a few hours ago, Shouto’s legs actually moves when he tells them to. He wobbles to a sitting position on the bed and stands up slowly. Firefist flicks his forehead, almost sending him tumbling back to the bed.

 

The raven haired man places Shouto’s scalding left hand over his shoulder, unbothered by its temperature, and helps him out the room and onto the deck. Shouto reaches for the railing, a bit embarrassed having to be helped up.

 

“I’ll show you a trick on how to cool down fast,” Firefist says, smiling mischievously. The next thing Shouto knows, his stomach flips as he is flung overboard, airborne, falling head first into the Atlantic Ocean with a big splash.

 

His legs kick up in panic to keep him afloat. He spits out ice cold seawater and glares at his laughing mentor. The man is not wrong, though. The freezing water temperature seeps all the way through his bones, quickly replacing the heat with a chill that has him shivering.

 

An end of a rope is thrown down. Teeth chattering, Shouto swims to it and starts climbing. Firefist pulls him up onto the deck.

 

“A nice trick, isn’t it?” The man has the gall to grin. Only then does Shouto realize he can move pretty much normally again.

 

The soaked boy still glares at him, unimpressed.

 

“Go take a quick shower, you know where it is,” the man shooed, unbothered.

 

Shouto stomps off to take the longest, warmest bath in his life.

 

“Don’t skip dinner!” Firefist shouts after him, “We’re having a meeting after!”

  
  
  


—-

  
  
  


Firefist saves a seat for him at dinner and piles a lot of food onto his plate; a subtle apology. Shouto reluctantly forgives him. Carmen has outdid herself with the meal. The noodles are cooked perfectly, the broth warm and smells too good. Shouto has eaten more seafood in the past week than his entire life, but he isn’t complaining.

 

His mentor isn’t either. He shovels food into his mouth constantly, and barely joining in the table conversation. He falls asleep once, but Deuce manages to lie him back before he can faceplant onto his food.

 

After the meal, the table is cleared and wiped down. The air takes a serious turn. Skull leaves the room and comes back with a rolled map on one hand. Everyone gathered around as he unfurls it onto the table.

 

“The signal from Cornelia’s tracker on Joker’s ship went awry at 9 this morning. It’s safe to say that they had found and chucked it away somewhere, probably fed it to a fish,” he starts. has been removed from Joker’s ship around 9am this morning,” he starts, “I sent their last coordinates to Miharl immediately. Based on his calculations, they should be in this area.” He pulls out a marker and circles a patch of sea closer to the middle of nowhere than the Carribean. 

 

“They’re taking a detour,” Deuce observes.

 

Skull nods. 

 

“We’re here right now.” He draws a dot near the Dominican Republic. “Since the wind and weather’s been great, we’re ahead of schedule. We’ll quickly refuel and restock in the morning, then we’re heading out to-”

 

“Ambush!” Cornelia squeals, clapping excitedly.

 

“-set our ambush, yes,” says Skull. “We’ve called your grandfather, Ace, you should really call him back-”

 

“Never!”

 

“-to give him a heads up, so the entire east coast should be swarming with marines. If we’re dealing with anyone else, we can call it a day and head back. But this is Joker, so it will be tricky. Miharl predicts they will try something, so we’ll have to catch them before that.” He draws a curve from the circle, then a diagonal line from the dot through it. “Them sacrificing their speed makes it possible for us to intercept them in two days, approximately at noon.”

 

“Great job, Skull,” Firefist praises. Shouto watches the bone-faced man beam in happiness, somehow.

 

“Banshee, you’re scouting on deck from D-Day dawn. Fighters, be on alert. Cornelia, Aggie, make sure the cannons are ready. Skull and Deuce, I’ll leave the scheming to you guys as always,” their commander orders. A chorus of “Aye!”s answers him. Shouto joins in.

 

Firefist’s grey eyes gleam like steel. “I want us to be ready for them. We won’t get caught by surprise again.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Had a severe writer’s block trying to figure out how to even start this chapter, which turns out to be longer than usual.

While Firefist suplexes him on deck, Banshee is by the fiery cow skull figurehead, mouth open in a silent scream—well, silent to a regular human’s ears anyway. The chubby woman’s quirk reminds Shouto of Present Mic’s, but instead of always being ungodly loud, her quirk allows her to alter the decibel of her screeching. She has a weird looking hearing device on her ears that Cornelia proudly explained she had designed, capable of catching and translating all the noise she makes into a listenable sound, including the echolocation she’s doing.

 

“Take five,” Firefist says, finally releasing his hold on Shouto.

 

The boy grunts in reply and picks himself up. He rubs the accumulated bruises on his arms. Firefist has been going easy on him since that first day of training. Shouto isn’t complaining—he appreciates all his ribs being intact, thank you very much—but he’s also frustrated. To be handled with  _ kiddy gloves  _ like this hurts his pride.

 

“Banshee, status report?” The freckle faced man asks.

 

She stops for a moment and shakes her head. “Nothing yet, cap’n.”

 

Firefist whips his head to Wallace on the starboard. “We’re still on course?”

 

“Yes,” the man, blue skinned and strong jawed, says. He’s one of the Fishmen mentioned in Shouto’s schoolbooks, the largest group of people to ever been recorded having the same quirk mutation of adopting marine features and abilities. It’s fascinating seeing one in the flesh.

 

“How’s your fire control going?” Firefist now asks Shouto as he climbs up to sit on the railings without any semblance of fear. Shouto doesn’t have that kind of seasoned-sailor bravery, so he settles on sitting on the floor next to him instead.

 

Shouto drinks his bottled water and frowns. “It’s getting there.”

 

His mentor sighs. “I’ll be frank here,” he says seriously, “we’re dealing with a ship that’s carrying probably a couple dozen tons of high-grade cocaine. We can’t afford any collateral today. The ship should be intact for the local officials to inspect.”

 

_ Is he insinuating what I think he is? _ Shouto’s eyes widen. He balls his fists, anger burning in his chest.

 

“I want to fight,” Shouto puts his foot down. There’s _ no way _ he’s going to miss this opportunity. He’s fought a villain without permission once, what’s one more time?

 

Firefist tilts his head, looking at him confusedly. “Of course you will. You’ll be with Deuce, handling the rear. We went over this at the meeting yesterday.”

 

Shouto’s cheeks burn. “Oh.”

 

“Let’s show them what we’re made of.” The Flame Hero grins, shining like a beacon in the soft morning light. “The fire side of us, anyway.”

 

“Wouldn’t ice be more effective?” Shouto tries, but his mentor only looks at him as if it was the stupidest thing he has ever said.

 

“Have you seen that really old American movie? Ice and ships don’t mix,” he says, which Shouto thinks is a straight faced lie. Midoriya told him about a high-ranking marine with an ice quirk once...

 

“They’re in range!” Banshee suddenly shouts loud enough for the entire ship to hear, “T-10 minutes!”

 

“You heard her!” Firefist roars, “Get ready, men!”

 

The crew moves to man the sails and ready the weapons with the ease of a well oiled machine. Shouto slots himself into position, like a gear that’s always meant to be there.

 

Wallace keeps them on course, inching closer to Joker’s ship, until Banshee lifts one hand, signaling to stop. The ship slows to a gentle float. They don’t lower the anchors to keep their maneuverability, instead keeping close watch on the waves which seem steady.

 

“Alright!” Shouto hears Saber cry from the crow’s nest. He looks up to see him whipping around a lasso in the air, before throwing it with deadly accuracy forward. The speciality rope expands in length as it flies, creating a perfect circle floating in the water, circling their oblivious target.

 

“They spotted us!” Deuce shouts, seeing the villains panic through his mask. “Ace!”

 

Firefist wastes no time grasping lasso’s straight line. “Flame Fence!”

 

Fire bursts from his hands and onto the rope, circling Joker’s ship in a flaming cage. The rope was made from a what’s-it-solid-oil-thing—courtesy of Carmen’s quirk: Grease Control and Cornelia’s craftsmanship—able to feed the flames for 24 hours.

 

The enemy ship stops propelling backwards, realizing they would be burnt to crisp just in time (though Shouto doubts Firefist would let that happen). Escape impossible, they turn to fire at the Spadille instead.

 

“Oh no you wont!” Cornelia shoots her bazooka straight at one cannonball, exploding it in mid-air. The rest are stopped by Wallace’s efficient hydrokinesis.

 

The Spadille starts firing back. In accordance to last night’s meeting, Finnamore and Dogya are the ones tasked with manning the cannons. Shouto watches as their cannons fly, a few hitting just shy of Joker’s ship, jostling the waters and making them panic. Most of the Spadille’s cannons appear to hit their mark though, before disappearing like the illusions they are. That’s Finnamore’s Dupli-Mirage quirk at work, succeeding in confusing the enemies’ defenders.

 

Shouto watches as Saber follows Firefist jumping down onto Striker—Firefist’s small, custom made, flame powered striking boat.

 

“Hey kid!” Deuce calls, snapping Shouto’s overwhelmed brain to adapt to the action, “let’s go!”

 

“Right!” He says, following the masked man down the submarine hatch, where Cornelia’s proudest creation hangs, ready to be used. As they run in, the blue haired man slaps a red button on the wall, opening the floor below the vehicle. Shouto enters a submarine for the second time in his life, heart still thumping as erratically as the first time he gets on and even  _ learnt how to drive _ the sleek, flame-painted steel contraption at last night’s ambush rehearsal.

 

Deuce gets onboard a second later. Swiftly but with trembling hands, Shouto pushes a button that releases the ropes. He makes sure they have fully submerged before he pushes another one that closes the ship’s flooring once more.

 

They propel through the water, leaving a flurry of bubbles in their wake. Shouto focuses on wading through the fallen cannonballs, while Deuce takes his time strapping a variety of guns to his back.

 

“Let’s review the signals,” Deuce says. 

 

“What signals.”

 

The older man ignores him. “If I lift one hand up, it’s “stop”. Two means “burn this person”.”

 

_ That’s easy enough.  _ Shouto steers them out of the way of a particularly big debris.

 

Thankfully, the stern is clear of falling explosives. They climb out the sub stealthily after sticking it onto the hull. The chaos from the front is loud, but the back of the ship stays silent, abandoned as the Joker’s crew try to keep up with Firefist’s burning fists and Saber’s sharp limbs. Deducing this, Deuce shoots one of his guns up, a grappling hook for them to climb up with minimal sound.

 

Oh, there’s actually one poor Joe keeping watch, knife-fingers out to slice the ropes. But Deuce is faster, gripping his wrist and breaking his other arm in one, swift motion, then proceeds to put him in a chokehold.

 

The guy struggles for a few seconds as Shouto pulls himself up the ship. He notices Deuce wobbling onto his feet, the unconscious guy dropped from his slack grip.

 

“Ugh, managed to peek into his mind a bit,” he says, then presses the device on his ear to announce his findings to the entire Spadille crew. “There’s two members of Joker’s Familia here, the rest are grunts. The drugs are below deck as we have expected. I know the way there. Shouto and I’ll be going first.”

 

_ We’re right behind ya’, just gotta finish up- shit- _

 

Saber’s voice in Shouto’s ears is cut. Then Banshee’s Present Mic-level shriek reverberated through the entire ship, followed by a loud splash and a bunch of guys screaming, “Boss!”

 

_ Guess that takes care of that,  _ deadpans Firefist.  _ Go ahead, Deuce. We’ll be right there in a bit. _

 

Deuce drags Shouto through a door and and a hatch, then long hallways which are oddly empty. The masked man stops after a turn, where before a gigantic, metal door stands a woman in a skimpy purple maid getup, a lit cigarette in her mouth and gun shaped forearms aimed at their heads.

 

She shoots.

 

Both heroes dive to the floor. Two bullets fly past their heads, more as she continues to shoot at them. Shouto wishes he’s allowed to put up an ice shield; they have cleared the entire area, making it impossible to find cover. He’s quick enough to roll over and dodge the rounds, until a bullet grazes his cheekbone as he stands.

 

“Stop!” Deuce shouts, “I need you to stop this, please!”

 

Shouto wonders if he has gone insane.

 

Amazingly, the shooting stops. “You need me?” The woman asks hopefully. She looks vulnerable for a moment, before she grits her teeth and is back to aiming resolutely at Deuce, who has both his hands up, and Shouto, who feels he must do  _ something. _

 

_ Two hands up,  _ Shouto realizes. The message is clear.

 

He’s explicitly banned from summoning flaming pillars, but Shouto doubts Firefist would mind a couple of scorch marks on the floor.

 

He sends a wave of fire through his foot, harmless flames he can snuff out with his boots later. He ups the intensity when it hits her, setting her shoes aflame.

 

The second her attention diverts, it’s over. Shouto catches Deuce’s body before it hits the floor. The woman blinks a few times before snuffing out her shoes and cigarette.

 

Shouto stomps over the leftover embers.

 

“Neat quirk,” Deuce says in the woman’s body, staring down at his gun-for-arms.

 

“Baby Five!” A couple dozen grunts rushes in. Shouto realizes this must have been their strategy: luring them to the maid woman then closing off their exit. He looks to her for guidance.

 

Deuce points her gun hands at the newcomers. Several awkward seconds pass as he fails to shoot.

 

“Gotta figure this out first,” he sighs. Pretty dark eyes turn to Shouto. “Hold them off, I’ll watch my body,” Deuce decides. 

 

Shouto has no problem with that.

 

He charges at the confused grunts, lighting his fist solid hot and burning their shoes when his leg swipes low. Being beat up by Firefist teaches him how to be sneaky; that going for underhanded tricks and vulnerable spots of the human body doesn’t necessarily make him dishonorable, just less injured. “There is no honor in a fight”, his mentor likes to say. He usually follows that sentence with “but there is some in not running away”, which Shouto also agrees with, to a degree.

 

He’s doing okay until a fallen guy gets up and punches him from behind. Shouto dodges too late. The room spins as the side of his head is hit.  _ Lucky shot.  _ He hisses between gritted teeth. Oh, how he misses being able to freeze his opponents in place.

 

He staggers but doesn’t fall. The guy goes in for another brass-knuckled punch and is stopped by a steel net to the face. A brief glance tells Shouto that Deuce has finally worked out the woman’s quirk. Her hands have turned normal and equipped with the guns he brought from the sub.

 

Shouto ignores his head wound and keeps fighting. Deuce assists. Firefist and Saber arrives just in time to see Shouto landing a beautiful flaming drop kick to the last grunt’s crotch.

 

“Ouch,” Saber cringes, then turns to Deuce and whistled. “Dude, you’re SMOKIN’.”

 

“She was, my mouth tastes like ashes,” he whines. “Just handcuff me. She has a pretty powerful weapons quirk, use the big ones. I brought one in my coat.”

 

“Of course you did,” Firefist says with a smile. His second in command is always prepared. Saber moves to do just that, then holds the woman’s body as Deuce’s consciousness returns to his own. Firefist helps him up.

 

“The combination is 1 0 2 3 4 0,” the blue haired man says, pointing to the steel door. Saber turns a blade hand back to flesh and fiddles with the lock instead. The masked man moves to help him.

 

Suddenly dizzy, Shouto sits on a particularly scorched part of the floor. The world turns and he’s seeing double. Two firefists crouches down in front of him, inspecting the dripping gash on the side of his head.

 

“Shit! Deuce, he’s bleeding! Shouto! Don’t you dare black out. Shouto! Shouto!”

 

He blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23rd October is Doflamingo’s birthday, and 340 (million) his One Piece pre-warlord bounty.
> 
> I also fixed a minor inconsistency in chapter two and edited the lineup of heroes onboard the Spadille in chapter 4. So, currently the crew consists of: Ace, Shouto, Masked Deuce, Saber, Dogya, Banshee, Finnamore, Wallace + the non-heroes: Skull, Carmen and Cornelia.


End file.
